Tuesday, March 16, 2010

A Twist Of Noir 393 - Cindy Rosmus

Susan cringed. That nut, Carrie, was on her bench. Her usual spot, outside the 7-11. On this crisp, beautiful day, the first ‘good’ hair day in a month.

To Carrie, demented and homeless, ‘good’ hair days were long-gone. Hers was matted, like she’d worn a hat since Clinton was president. Long-chinned, like the Witch of the West, with these beady, steady eyes, like she still knew her ass from Kansas.

“Susan...” Ramon gripped her chin, forced her to meet his eyes. Knowing they’d never, ever sit this close again made her heart lurch. “I love her, too,” he said, “But I also love you.”

Her tears stopped. “Huh?”

“But I can’t be a dog...” His tone was sincere. “No more.” He shook his head, slowly. “No more.”

She looked down at the stoop.

“No more,” he whispered.

*

For a while, Susan sat, slumped over the wheel. You suck! Carrie’s words still rang in her ear.

Yeah, she sucked, all right. But so did life.

Why else would she be here, meeting... this guy? Not a date, not some consoling buddy, but... a hit man! How sick was this?

This guy, Frankie had said, he’s all that?

Was he? Susan asked herself, suddenly. I love you, too, Ramon had told her. But was that worth the risk? Solicitation to commit murder was a far cry from parking assways.

She sat up, peered around the lot again. From her bench, Carrie was yelling nonsense to some chubby guy, who gave her a strange look before trudging into the 7-11.

Nora, Ramon once said, she makes me laugh, man! How his eyes had sparkled when he talked about Nora. Susan cringed.

And what a dancer, Ramon had added. Lives for good times. Just like me.

No doubt he’d told Nora stuff about her. He loved playing them against each other. My two womens, he said proudly.

Susan tapped the steering wheel. Long nails, Nora had. The one time Susan had met her, they were freshly-manicured, with some tropical design on the tips. Palm trees. So Ramon felt he was back in PR...

Those long nails raking his back...

Susan clutched the steering wheel. That fuck, she thought. He should die!

She gasped. What was wrong with her?

Heart racing, she checked her watch again: 10:28. Where was this guy? She grabbed her cell, but stopped before punching in Frankie’s number. Be cool, he’d warned.

And...

Coming out of the 7-11...

She looked closer. It can’t be! she thought.

The chubby guy was headed towards the Blazer. Carrying a whipped cream-topped drink, he glanced at each truck till he reached Susan’s.

The Rob Zombie t-shirt.

She just stared, as he leaned against the passenger door, slurped his drink. “You Frankie’s cuz?”

The Pillsbury Doughboy, he looked like. Round eyes in a baby face, round all over. Grown-out buzz cut. Under the Zombie tee, his big belly protruded.

This, Susan thought, is a killer?

“I...” She shut up. No names, Frankie had said. But, how else would Doughboy know who she was? “Maybe,” she said childishly.

“Maybe? You could be his clone.”

When he leaned closer, she saw whipped cream on his nose and cheeks. “Get in,” she said, reluctantly.

As he struggled into the Blazer, some of his drink spilled. “Sorry,” he said, but Susan doubted it. She tried not to stare at his belly. “Got a picture?” he asked.

“Hey!” They both jumped, as Carrie appeared, on Doughboy’s side. “Where’s my shake?” She smiled suggestively.

“Billionaires, but nobody’ll buy me a shake. Well...” Carrie shuffled over to Susan’s window. “I’ll just tell all that I know! People believe me.”

Doughboy’s lip curled.

“I’ll tell everybody...” Carrie said. “That Lindsey is the killer.”

As Doughboy caught Susan’s eye, they both smiled.

“‘Lindsey’?” he said.

“Go ahead,” Susan told her.

BIO: Cindy is a New York textbook editor by day, a hardboiled Jersey female by night. Her fiction has appeared in Black Petals, The Beat, The Cynic, Red Fez, Zygote in My Coffee, Hardboiled, NVF, MediaVirus, Mysterical-E, The Monsters Next Door, Out of the Gutter, Devil Blossoms, 13th Warrior Review, and Beat to a Pulp. She has four collections of stories out: Angel of Manslaughter, Gutter Balls, Calpurnia’s Window, and No Place Like Home. She is the editor of the e-zine, Yellow Mama. She is also a thrill seeker, a Gemini, and a Christian.